Jeanne D'Arc
by Lolo Loco
Summary: It is true that Jeanne D'Arc was a major part of France's life; but what really happened in the years leading up to her untimely death? What sort of relationship did the nation and the woman have? What role did England play in the whole ghastly situation? This story tells of the love he had for her. And the faith she had in him.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell do you think you're playing at you bloody frog?" he turned to man in the doorway, ocean blue met emerald green as the irritated Englishmen strode into the room (without permission from the other), his oversized eyebrows furrowed downward in frustration and contempt. Arthur's short dark blonde hair slightly gleaming in the fading light of the evening coming through the window of the study; his raggedy hair casting shadows on his face, making him seem more intense and intimidating, facing the man sitting at his desk.

Francis, flicking his shoulder length silky blonde hair over his shoulder, turned to the intruding man with a condescending smile; he swirled the glass of wine in his hand and put down his pen.

"Ahh..." he said in a romantic yet sarcastic tone; staying seated and not bothering to stand up to greet his guest. "And what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Monsieur Kirkland?"

"Don't give me any of that, Git." The Englishmen retorted sourly in his usual clipped tone; if it wasn't for the Frenchman being so God damned stupid that a rumour starts up, he wouldn't be here. Arthur had better things to do than deal with this perverted pansy today; the fact that the rumour was large enough and so widely spread that it even reached the small island of the United Kingdom both irritated and somewhat impressed the blonde...however a lot of gossip seemed to revolve around Francis Bonnefoy... most of which Arthur would've rather have never heard... EVER.

The Brit repressed a shudder and tried to continue with what he came for, rather than let his unwilling mind wander to talk of wine, girls, a goat and a very large amount of water.

"It's not like I WANT to be here in your stupid country. Reeks of wine and cheese." His snide remark went ignored by the Frenchman but he was surprised when the shorter man's voice changed from one of mocking to extreme seriousness; Arthur folded his arms across his chest.

"Is what I've heard true?"

"Well that depends on what you have heard, mon cher." Francis said raising a delicate eyebrow; Arthur curled his lip upward in distaste of the affectionate French term, the Englishman tapped his foot impatiently.

"That YOU have been fraternising with a certain woman?" Francis raised his other fine eyebrow to match the other; Arthur saw this and raised his voice somewhat in retaliation of the obvious insult the Frenchman was thinking concerning his intelligence and the fact that he 'fraternised' with practically everyone, female or otherwise. "And I mean MORE than you NORMALLY fraternise. A certain woman with long, dark blonde hair?" he said while raising a bushy eyebrow; Francis' eyes widened for a moment, and Arthur knew he was right when he saw the man in front of him gulp.

'_That idiotic Git.' _

"A woman who goes by the title of 'Jeanne d'Arc'?" He continued sceptically, adding the accent as if to stress the point. The blonde Frenchman was silent for a while, the Brit tapping his foot continually through the silence; finally, he spoke, slowly and quietly.

"What of it...?" he drawled, not looking the other man in the eyes; Arthur gave an exasperated sigh.

"What the hell are you thinking Francis?" the blonde pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was getting a very large headache; the Frenchman remained seated, however he was becoming increasingly irritated.

"I'm not sure what you mean, mon cher-"

"I MEAN hanging about a bloody BIRD and then forcing her to FIGHT for you! Do you really think she stands even a slim CHANCE against the British army!?" the blonde had not noticed Francis rise from his chair and stride towards him; the next thing he knew, the Frenchman was holding him against the wall, gripping him by the collar.

"She is NOT a BIRD." He hissed, every single word seething with rage, sapphire eyes overflowing with anger. "Her name is JEANNE, and if you EVER talk about her in that manner again..." he removed one of his hands from the Englishman's neck to lightly grip the hilt of the sword on his hip. "I'll cut you to pieces." Arthur had never seen such a look in the man's eyes before; it seemed as if he was ready to tear him apart at any moment; Francis shoved the startled Englishman against the wall and released him, turning back to the desk and picking up the glass of wine he had left behind. Arthur adjusted his collar and cleared his throat, he was about to speak, but the Frenchman beat him to it; he remained facing the window, looking out to the docks in the fading light, his voice was caring and soft.

"She is much stronger than you think, Arthur; she has more heart and spirit than most of my army put together... she says she has been sent by God..." he turned to face the blonde behind him. "She truly cares for her country, she is willing to do anything to return it to the glorious place it once was." He said with an almost sad smile.

Arthur's eyes widened. _'Impossible... he couldn't possibly'_

"F-Francis..." he stammered as he brought a hand to the side of his head, unable to fathom what he could mean; the Englishman was worried now, _'He couldn't possibly...'_ he looked the blonde straight in the eye and spoke in an extraordinarily serious tone. "Francis. Please, please don't tell me y-you've actually..." he could barely bring himself to finish his sentence; Francis gazed into his glass of wine, the small smile still strong on his face. He set the glass down behind him and turned back to the smaller blonde.

"And if I have, Arthur?" he said slowly; Arthur's eyes widened as his fears were confirmed.

"Francis! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!? Do you honestly believe that this won't have repercussions!? That everything will just be absolutely fine!?"

"You don't have to yell Arthur –"

"I can do whatever the bloody hell I want you bloody frog! You have some nerve doing this sort of thing in the first place! And what about HER!? Is she completely ignorant!? Doesn't she know- -"

"Of course she knows Arthur."

"Oh then she's just bloody stupid!"

"Don't you talk about her that way Kirkland! I warn you!"

"Oh don't get your beard knotted you wino! Are you seriously this idiotic!? For Christ's sake Francis she's Human!"

"Well what in God's name am I!"

"You're a NATION Francis! It's not the same bloody thing!"

The Frenchman stopped dead in his tracks; his eyes wide and drained of all anger. Only fear was left now. He had spent so much time with her, he had practically forgotten; he placed his hand on the side of his head and gulped, leaning one arm on the desk behind him. Arthur, seeing the pause and realisation on his face, took the opportunity to try and talk some sense into him; the Englishman's voice softened as he took a few steps toward the taller man.

"Think about it Francis..." he said gently. "You've barely aged a day in five hundred years; I'm sorry but... what did you think was going to happen?" Francis buried his face in his hands; he didn't say anything, he felt as if his throat and chest was burning, he couldn't speak and he felt as though it would rip apart if he tried.

Her smiling face.

Her laugh.

Everything about her was taking him over; was consuming him and he couldn't do anything about it, he just wanted to be with her, to see her, to touch her delicate face and hear her say that she- -

... This was tearing him apart. He couldn't take this anymore.

Francis tightened his hands into fists; white knuckled and trembling, his legs feeling as though they would give way any second. The Englishman placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder in comfort.

"...Francis- -"

"No, Arthur." The Frenchman spoke through his hands, refusing to show himself to his enemy in this condition; the Brit was taken aback from the sudden response but he refused to be angry at the older nation. After all, this would be expected.

"Francis, listen to me - -"

"I said NO, Arthur." The Frenchman replied, taking his hands away from his face and placing them by his side, revealing the emotionless mask he had placed on his features; Arthur sighed as the taller man shrugged his hand off his shoulder, it was time to talk seriously about this situation, and Francis would have to face the truth. Whether he wanted to or not.

"Francis, the only reason I was able to convince my superior to let me come here in the first place, was because I needed to know if this was true; and to try to convince you to reconsider." He tried to approach the man again. "If you allow her to fight, my soldiers have been ordered to treat her the same as any enemy; they won't show any mercy and there's only so much I can do to refrain that from happening. Francis, PLEASE, just listen to me, for once in your life just listen to what people say to you..."

"And what makes you think that she will need to be given mercy, Arthur? You don't know anything about her; she is just as strong as any one of your men if not stronger. This country does not need your concern or assistance, nor Jeanne or I; now if you would kindly..." the Frenchman said stubbornly as he motioned his hand to the door; Arthur clenched his fists as he gritted his teeth as he grabbed the older nation by his shirt.

"Now you listen to me, you bloody wanker!" he yelled as he jerked the slightly disgruntled Frenchman towards him. "If you make her go onto that battlefield and force her to fight she WILL be injured! She will be injured or WORSE! And what really disgusts me is that you're willing to let that happen!" the taller blonde simply stared back at him with silent defiance; Arthur's grip tightened.

"We are NATIONS Francis, we're born, we grow, and then our body practically stops! We live forever until we're no longer needed! Only then do we disappear!" the blonde looked the taller man in the eyes with piercing emerald.

"You will stay the same for the next what? One thousand? Two thousand years?! You will not have aged a DAY in the next millennia and what about her Francis? How will she be in ten years? What about twenty? If you take her to battle she'll probably never even make it that far! WE are constant! WE are forever young, but SHE will deteriorate and rot and decay!"

Although the defiance was still strong on the older nations features, it became clear to Arthur that the Frenchman had paled considerably; almost all of the colour was lost from his face, his hands were shaking, white knuckled and most probably bleeding from the man's fingernails digging into his skin. Despite this, Arthur continued. "You have to realise this, Francis...we can't afford to care about a person this deeply," the Englishman sighed. "They're fragile, Francis; they aren't like us, you KNOW this. You can't let her fight, Francis." The taller man's hands were still shaking as he looked at Arthur with eyes that were void of anything other than suffering.

"I wouldn't be able to stop her even if I tried." The Frenchman said in a low voice as he removed the shorter man from his shirt; he turned his back on the Englishman and lent on the desk. "Now if you would kindly leave; it is late and I have grown tired of this conversation."

"You can't just ignore the truth, Francis! You have to listen sometime whether you want to or not, one way or another! I'm telling you to listen to me!"

"Get out of my study, Arthur."

"She'll DIE, Francis!"

"I LOVE HER ARTHUR!" he bellowed as he swung round to face the younger man; shoulders hunched and the whole of his arms shaking. Arthur stared at the man in bewilderment; he didn't think that this news would shock him to this extent; after all, the Frenchman had had many partners over the many years of his life, of both genders.

But never once did the man say that he LOVED them. The terrible thing was that the Englishman could tell from the look in his eyes that Francis was completely serious about what he was admitting and that his feelings for the woman were genuine; Arthur knew that nothing good could possibly become of this.

Whatever happened, no matter the outcome of the wars, she would die and Francis would get his heart broken; it was dangerous for nations to fall in love, and that's why most nations avoided doing so like the plague.

"And I believe in her, with my whole spirit. All of France does; and that is not going to change" he turned back to his desk and gazed out the window into the quickly fading light. "I'm sorry that I wasted your time." He said in a low, determined voice; signalling that the conversation was over.

This was one of the very few days that Arthur felt true concern for his old enemy; he tried one last time.

"Francis..." he pleaded "Please, Francis reconsider."

"Get out of my study, England." The younger man flinched slightly at the use of his formal name; there was no way that France would listen to reason, it wasn't possible to change his mind when it was set on something so stubbornly. As asked, he turned and walked silently to the door; he wasn't angry, not enough so to give his anger a voice, he just knew that all this would go downhill very soon, and very fast.

He turned to the older nation as he opened the door to the study, said nation did not turn, keeping his eyes on the fading light on the docks, hands still clenched and placed behind his back.

"Francis, something bad is going to happen; I can feel it. And God help you both if this feeling is correct." He paused as he took a step out the door, giving the Frenchman a chance to give one last reply; when nothing came, he sighed silently and walked out of the room. He held the door open as he bowed a final goodbye. "God be with her, Francis. But when it gets to a certain point, there will be nothing I can do...think about that. Goodbye." He pulled the door quietly closed, letting it gently click shut as he left the room.

Francis waited, stubbornly staring out the window into the now black sea as the final rays of daylight left the earth; he stood and waited until he was sure that Arthur was completely out of range and most likely out of the building.

He slowly drew his hands from behind his back and placed them on the desk in front of him, leaning over on the wood giving him the support to stay standing. His hands began to shake again as he clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth; he slammed his right fist on the table, denting the wood as his shoulders also began to tremble.

"Merde...!" he choked. He straightened up gradually and looked at his clenched fists; with a sharp intake of breath, Francis winced as he opened his hands slowly to reveal the crescent-shaped cuts in his palms which were indeed bleeding, and rather badly. The Frenchman clicked his tongue in frustration and promptly bandaged his hands with a roll of bandages he kept in the third draw of his desk.

For a long while Francis simply stood in front of the window on the right hand side of the study, staring into the darkness engulfed countryside without a purpose; wrapping his damaged hands with bandages and not really seeing what was in front of him.

After he had finished with his hands he inspected how well he wrapped them; he looked at his hands for a long while, not actually seeing them. He replayed what Arthur had said over again in his head, remembering how sincere he looked in his concern. _'If only he could be like that more often…'_ he smiled to himself. _'It would make him a lot more attractive.'_

Everyone knew that when England had a "feeling" about something, more often than not that feeling was absolutely correct, and even if it wasn't then he always just predicted a few things slightly out of line of what would eventually occur. The Englishman had always been sensitive with how things would turn out; his omens and predictions couldn't be ignored, and Francis couldn't just disregard what he had said and simply hope that this would be the first time he was wrong.

_** "WE are constant! WE are forever young! But SHE will deteriorate and rot and decay!" **_

'_I know that...'_

_** "She'll DIE, Francis!" **_

He flexed his hands, refusing to close them in risk of not being able to open them again.

_** "But when it gets to a certain point, there will be nothing I can do...think about that." **_

Francis lowered his hands and grabbed his coat hanging next to the door; he ran to his desk and retrieved a blue ribbon with which he swiftly used to tie his shoulder length hair behind him in a ponytail.

He wasn't doing this because of England.

He was going to see her and he was going to try and save her. Francis knew it was most likely hopeless but he had to try; just to try. Just to see her.

Just to see her.

Francis slammed the door of his study behind him as he ran out of the house.

* * *

**So yeah! (While I work on my other story 'Chance of Fate') New story everyone! Well actually, it's an OLD story from my DeviantART account... this is actually one of the first Hetalia fics I ever wrote (A good 2-ish years ago) so I apologize if people are out of character or it's just plain bad XD******

Thing is... it's still on going.. I'm putting it up here so maybe I can get some motivation to finish the damn thing**... cause I actually put in quite a bit of research into this and I don't want to leave it half finished... So if people could tell me if they want me to keep going with it then I'd really appreciate it (cause I'm really losing my muse with this one).**

I will be updating this every week until I tell you otherwise (when I run out of finished chapters ;p )**. I hope you enjoy this guys (I also don't know what catagory to put this in X'D)**

Do you think England doesn't want Jeanne to fight simply because she's a woman? Tell me what you think~


	2. Chapter 2

He ran the streets of Paris.

'_Now why the hell does she live so far away from me?!'_ He asked himself inwardly as his feet flew through alley ways and roads, trying to find the quickest route to their destination; he reflected that in retrospect, it didn't make much sense...

Now that it was night, the Frenchman could hardly see a thing, not that it mattered though; he had spent so many decades in this land that he knew it like the back of his hand. Even then, after all, he was a nation; and nations were always amazingly acute with the inner workings and layout of their land. The man knew every single twist and turn of the countryside, every river, lake, village and city; he knew where every individual blade of grass was placed as if he had planted them himself. Even if someone took away each and every sense he had; removed his eyes and blocked his nose, covered his hands, ripped out his tongue and destroyed his ears, dumped him in the "middle of nowhere" he would STILL know precisely where he was in his vast land.

He stopped outside a small cottage on the outskirts of Paris, a wonderfully beautiful place on the ridge of the countryside. A quaint little house with sturdy stone walls, nothing especially or overly extravagant; yet it was still a beautifully peaceful and handsome structure all the same; ivy climbing the walls, attempting to reach the second floor windows or the thatched roof above, flowers surrounded the base, decorating the delicate house with dots of colour and creating such a heavenly scent which could never be replicated by any master of perfumes.

_**"I don't see why I have to move!" she pouted as she folded her arms across her chest; he smiled, it really was adorable! "My home in Lorraine is perfectly adequate! I like it... and I'm afraid of living on my own..." she added the last part hesitantly; the man was facing the small cottage proudly, his hands on his hips gazing fondly at one of his favourite homes in the countryside. He turned his head to look at her, smiling._

"_The reason you have to move, Mon Cher, is that you can't really achieve your goals to an efficient standard if you are miles and miles from the capital itself." He chuckled lightly as the girl looked down sheepishly. "It wouldn't be helpful if every time you need to see a general about your campaign, you need to take a horse and cart ride for goodness knows how long." He chuckled again. He wasn't really sure what to think when an illiterate peasant girl burst through the doors to the meeting room, having somehow gotten past the guards at the door, claiming divine provenance. Everyone seemed sceptical about her visions but said it would deny God himself if they didn't at least give her a chance; he personally respected the young girl's spirit and determination, so had expressed his support to his superior. Even if she was, at this time at least, simply a device for morale._

"_I suppose..." came the quite reply, the pout slowly disappearing ; she looked up smiling at the house in front of her and tilted her head to the side. "It IS pretty..." she sighed as she breathed in the scent of the countryside around her, eyes closed as the wind floated around them both._

_His eyes stayed fixed on her for slightly too long, lingering on her delicate form; any painter would have given their first born child to capture the scene of pure radiance that was before him. He shook his head slightly to bring himself back to reality._

"_Well them Madame," he said cheerfully as he picked up her bags. "I shall give you the grand tour." He said extravagantly; she laughed and followed him into the house. The man, upon hearing the heavenly sound he had just influenced, found himself smiling a little more than what would be considered necessary. ** _

"Jeanne!" he yelled as he slammed the door open.

"Francis?" a rich, feminine voice asked from the darkness, she turned the corner to see what the source of the commotion was.

There she was, newly dressed in nightclothes and holding a candle to light her way through the dark rooms of her home; the dim light illuminating her pure face and casting shadows to highlight her beauty, it made his throat dry. But one thing about her screamed directly in his face, and for a brief moment, the reason the man came to see her was pushed to the back of his mind.

"You know I didn't give you a key so you could abuse my home in the middle of the night." She said grinning while raising an eyebrow.

"Mon Dieu Jeanne!"he yelled, the comment made by the woman forgotten. "What on earth have you done to your hair!?" he pointed at her head as if there was some sort of horrifying creature on top of it, mouth a gape and stretched arm shaking somewhat as he stared at the shocking sight. Jeanne placed her free hand on her hip.

"I fashioned it into a Coo-coo clock." She said rolling her eyes. "What do you think I did? I cut it." Her tone implied that it was obvious and the man was being an idiot for over reacting at something that people did every day. The Frenchman's arm did not lower as he stared at the short, dark blonde hair that now came down to half way down her slender neck, mouth still wide open.

"I can SEE that Jeanne! It's shorter than MINE! Why would you cut your beautiful hair!?" the woman giggled a little at the amusing sight in front of her.

"It was a hassle." She said simply, shrugging one shoulder. "Do you know how tedious it was to deal with every morning? Not to mention the numerous times it got in my way while I was trying to do something important. Think of it as a business decision." She said happily. "Doesn't it look nice?" she said, forcing herself to look slightly hurt from the man's reaction; Francis placed his hand on the side of his head, still seemingly finding it difficult to understand what she had done.

"Mon Dieu..." he said quietly, which received another chuckle from the woman in front of him; it was then that Jeanne registered that the man was panting.

"Francis, are you alright? You look awfully tired." She asked, placing a hand on the tall man's shoulder; Francis laughed once.

"I suppose one would be if they had ran here from their home." He said happily, Jeanne on the other hand looked absolutely horrified.

"From you home in Paris!? You live right in the middle of the city! You RAN here!? You idiot! No wonder you look like Death himself! Come, you need to sit down." She said as she ushered the chuckling blonde down the front hall to the second room on the left, which was the living room.

Jeanne sighed heavily as she handed the idiotic Frenchman a glass of red wine (from a bottle that HE gave her a few months before, which she had not yet opened, not seeing the need to); she lit the lamps which were placed around the room, bathing the small area with warm yellowish light. She sat herself down in a large comfortable chair in the right hand corner of the room; Francis, lounging on the sofa beside her seat, lay facing her with his chin on the arm rest while dangling his left arm over it, the wine placed on the small table in front of the sofa. He tilted his head and gazed at the woman in the dim light.

"I can't believe you ran all the way here." She huffed, eyes closed and brow furrowed, obviously irritated as she gripped the skirt of her night clothes on her lap. "Honestly what were you-"

"You look different with short hair..." he cut in absentmindedly as he got up, which Jeanne did not notice for she still had her eyes closed in frustration; her grip tightened.

"Oh would you stop fussing about my hair! Does it really matter that much if I cut it?" her eyes snapped open as she felt her chin being tilted upwards, they widened still when the sight of the Frenchman approximately three inches away from her came into focus (or the most focus that could be achieved at that distance); the man took a small lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, never once breaking the eye contact between them.

"It looks gorgeous." He said fondly, tilting his head slightly and smiling with a warm expression that she hardly ever saw, especially nowadays. Jeanne was blushing furiously and it wasn't very long until she pushed her hand into Francis' face, pushing him away rather violently; her hand remained in the middle of his face while she spoke, which was very strained due to how close the man had been.

"F-for goodness sake, Francis." She stuttered at the man chuckling because of how flustered she was. "Don't come that close! I-I'm trying to have a conversation!" the man apologized and returned to his seat on the sofa, beckoning for her to join him; she complies and sat stiffly next to the lounging man, still blushing quite profoundly, which made Francis smile even more.

"What on earth happened to your hands?" she said worriedly as she took one of his hands in her own; Francis simply smiled sheepishly at her, wanting to be with this like her just for even a moment longer.

"I was silly" he said with an almost sad chuckle; the woman beside him smiled and for a short time, they sat in a comfortable silence.

"So... why did you decide to come running at this time of night?" she asked hesitantly, she knew that he wouldn't have come to see her at this time without it being important. Her worries were confirmed when the warm and casual Francis she loved and respected melted away, every emotion on his face slowly disappeared until all that was left was a blank mask, carefully placed to protect the man's true feelings; he grabbed her shoulders as if she was about to fall off a cliff, the look he had in his eyes was unnerving to her, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid of him.

"I don't want you to go on that battlefield Jeanne." He said resolutely. "I will not allow you to be put in harm's way; you're not ready to face an army, you don't even know the nature of wars." For a short while, Jeanne looked at the man in silence; Francis' heart jumped into his throat as he saw the woman's expression change from confusion, to hurt and finally to anger.

"What?" she breathed as if someone had just insulted her. "What exactly do you mean Francis? Don't tell me you don't have any faith in me." She spoke slowly, her anger filled eyes glistening with a wounded expression that made his chest hurt as though it was being pierced with thorns. Jeanne forced the man's hands off of her shoulders, remaining seated. "I have already convinced the generals to let me do this... don't tell me I have to convince you as well! I thought _you_ of all people would believe in me!" her voice was drenched with hurt and every word stabbed into Francis with a force worse than a thousand knives. He locked his gaze with hers; his voice softened but remained urgent.

"Jeanne, I can't let you go onto that battlefield. The English will treat you the same as any other soldier."

"And I wouldn't want it any other way!" she exclaimed stubbornly, Francis tried to ague again but Jeanne simply yelled over him. "Besides!" she said, clenching her fists. "It's not up to you! I have been instructed! I have!-"

"God cannot control you Jeanne! He cannot take away your free will! Do you really want to do this!? Are you honestly willing to die because he told you to!?"

"I am _WILLING_ to do _ANYTHING_ for the good of my country, Francis! Whether I fall or not isn't my concern! I can't go against his wishes and neither can you!"

"THEN LET HIM DO WHATEVER HE WANTS TO ME!" he shouted as he stood up abruptly, throwing his arms outstretched, as if willing God to strike him down right then, never breaking eye contact with the woman now in a stunned silence. Francis' voice became softer as he lowered his arms but it was strained and covered with suffering as he stood over her, his bandaged hands shaking.

"He can do whatever he wants to me... he can smite me and strike me down a million times over but not to _you_. _Never_ to you..." every ounce of anger had disappeared from Jeanne's face, it was then that Francis realised that tears were rolling down his cheeks. "I won't let him take you..."he said in a voice that was barely audible, shaking. "I don't want to lose you..." Jeanne's eyes widened and she slowly got up off the sofa, the man's shoulders were now also quivering as he cried silently and looked to the floor, disorientated and ashamed of himself. He was being so selfish. Jeanne lifted his head to look at her, her bewildered expression had changed to one of happiness and of sadness; she smiled softly as she placed her hand on his cheek.

"Francis..." she said softly. "_My_ Francis... I have given you my soul, my body and my heart." She kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "And if and when the time comes, I shall also give you my life." The man above her had stopped shaking, he stared at her in silent amazement as more tears ran down his face; Jeanne wiped them away, and held him as if she was calming down a hurt child. "My dear Francis. You mean more to me than anything and that will never change, no matter how many years pass." She rested her forehead against his and smiled up at her one love. "Ok?" she said softly; and again, the Francis she had grown to love returned, he smiled as he slowly blinked the last remaining tears from his eyes.

"Jeanne." He said quietly before he lightly pressed his lips against hers.

If only they could stay like this...

_**"I have given you my soul, my body and my heart. And if and when the time comes..."**_

"Jeanne..."

If only we could stay like this...

_**"I will also give you my life."**_

...

If only we could have stayed like this forever...

"JEANNE!"

* * *

**Right, so new chapter; sorry that it's so short but it was just a little thing while to show France and Jeanne's relationship. she is by no means a damsel in distress XD**

**next chapter will enter Arthur Kirkland properly XD also a shameless OC  
**

**enjoy and leave a review, for they are my life blood :3  
**


	3. Chapter 3

"Lord Kirkland!" the messenger boy, no older than perhaps eighteen, ran into the large room of his officer's study, barely able to stop himself and practically hopping to a belated halt; the two guards at the door repressed their snigger the best they could. The blonde man jumped back a little as the messenger almost ploughed into him, he huffed once with frustration.

"For goodness sake man!" he yelled irritably "Control your bloody feet!"

"Beggin' yeh pardon me-Lord" the young man panted in a rather strong cockney accent as he attempted to straighten up his clothing (which was futile since he was wearing armour) and smooth down his red hair; he stood weakly to attention as the still irritated blonde leaned his hands behind him on his desk and sighed heavily. "I've brought yeh a message me-Lord, brought it soon as I could I did." The poor boy could hardly breathe in the heavy armour that covered his body; it was quite obvious that he was entirely new to the concept of being clad in heavy metal from head to toe. The boy's superior raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Where are from my boy?" the younger man's face lit up with a proud grin.

"Born 'n bred in the heart of London me-Lord! Wanted to give the ol' frogs what for, I did me-Lord; came out here the first chance I got me-Lord, I did I did." The young man stood firmly and proudly to attention as he spouted off more cockney-drenched, French-insulting profanities.

"Aye, I thought as much..." the older said as he chuckled inwardly, he couldn't help but smile at the man's child like demeanour. " So, what is this message of yours, who's it from and what does it entail? Come on boy, chop-chop."

The man snapped his fingers twice, indicating to the younger to hurry the hell up; the blonde raised an overly large eyebrow when he saw the man's face drain of colour and his grin disintegrated. Arthur watched as the proud young messenger before him turned into a shy, fidgeting, bumbling, stuttering mess. He looked at his feet and shuffled them from one side to the other, seemingly admiring the intricate stitch work of the large carpet beneath him, not looking his superior in the eyes as he clenched, opened and re-clenched his hands; his eyes falling on everything in the room apart from the man in front of him. The old nation began to lose his patience.

"Come now," he said, his words slightly drawn out due to the man trying to control his rising anger. "You obviously have a message to give to me, so out with it." The boy's right hand twitched towards his pocket but apparently decided against it, his mouth opening and closing to no avail of actually speaking.

"For God's sake man, speak! Spit it out and be quick about it! We're fighting in a bloody war! Do your damn job!" Arthur exploded as he threw his arms up in frustration; the boy jumped virtually five feet in the air and hurriedly fumbled in his pocket to retrieve a letter which held a French seal.

"I have a message from the French me-Lord, brought it as soon as I could I did!" he somewhat repeated as he stood, arms shaking by his side.

"WHAT!? Why didn't you say so sooner you great ruddy pilock! Well what does the thing say!? Out with it man!" the nation yelled, as his anxiety skyrocketed. The boy hesitated for a split second but jumped back to attention as his superior narrowed his eyes.

"It's from the French me-Lord, tellin' yeh to get the hell out me-Lord, that's the gist of it, me-Lord."

"Oh do shut up, yeh ruddy twit." He muttered as he snatched the letter from the man's hands as he muttered apologies ("Yes me-Lord, sorry me-Lord").

As Arthur's eyes scanned over the messy handwriting, trying to decipher the horrific language while also attempting to work around the many spelling errors; he gradually came to see that his fears had been confirmed. '_That God Damn git... I swear I'll kill him myself...!'_

He had ignored his warnings. And Arthur could tell that everything would end very badly. _' I can't believe he let that woman do this! The bloody pilock!'_

The young messenger boy sunk his head into his shoulders as he saw his superior positively fuming with rage; with each second that passed the blonde's grip tightened around the delicate parchment and his shoulders became more hunched over, shaking with fury and scaring every single person in the room. Slowly, practically hissing through his teeth, the nation began reading the letter aloud.

"... 'If you refuse I swear I shall raise a war cry against you that will last forever... I shall not write any further'" in one swift motion Arthur crumpled the letter within his right hand and threw it sideways to the far wall, seething with anger. "Who does that bloody Bird think she is!?" he bellowed at no one in particular. He spun around and stomped behind his desk, roughly opening draws, seizing writing utensils, slamming the draws shut again (making the whole desk shake) and mashing them on top of the desk to create the most violent writing kit ever assembled. The whole time fuming with rage and muttering (very loudly mind you).

"Bloody Bird thinks she's the bloody Queen of Bloody _fucking_ France...! *CRACK* Bloody Bird thinks she can write a Fucking letter *RATTLE* like _this_ *BAM* to _US_! *SMACK* Bloody _FUCKING_ Bird sees a few Shitty hallucinations in a bloody field and suddenly she's the all-powerful-ruddy-invincible-Bloody-fucking-saviour-of-_FUCKING-FRANCE_! *SLAM*"

He began violently scratching at the parchment with his ink covered quill, having to start over multiple times due to actually going THROUGH the material...that poor desk would never heal from the ill-treatment (and those marks are still there to this day). Growling abuse at the 'useless weak parchment' as he slowly and harshly wrote his message and fumed loudly.

"If a Ruddy _bird_ hallucinates God's Sweet, _ruddy angels_ and claims they've been telling her to save the bloomin' country, you don't give her a bloody SWORD!

_You throw her in the stocks!_ Tie up her limbs and let the good Lord bloody well save her if she's that important!

A Ruddy Nut-job Lass swinging a sword about should be the last of our bloody problems! I know they're desperate but this won't change a _BLOODY THING!_ *BAM*" the man had finished his letter during his rant and smashed his unique seal into the melted wax with the full force and length of his arm (all the men in the room jerked upwards in shock); this way, all officers would know that the information and orders were coming from the highest power save the King himself. He turned his blazing emerald eyes to the poor boy before him.

"YOU!" The young man's heart leapt into his throat. "What's your name Boy!?"

"Henry!" he squeaked. Henry almost fainted when his superior vaulted over his desk and landed neatly before him; Arthur shoved the message in the petrified man's hands. To Henry's shock, the man's tone of voice changed completely; becoming low but still held the tone of utmost urgency.

"All right then, Henry. It is _imperative_ that this message gets to the General stationed at Orléans. Do you understand? Can I count on you for that Henry?" the man in front of him looked blankly for a moment, he blinked twice and the proud grin he once held returned, albeit shaky.

"You can put yeh trust in me, Me-Lord!" and with that he bounded from the room; after he left Henry looked at the incredibly important message. _'Lord Kirkland must be in very high places to have so much authority.'_ He thought to himself as he studied the intricate seal of the officer; Henry was very impressed with just how high up his superior was.

The seal held the royal coat of arms with the crown above it; guarded by a unicorn on one side and a lion on the other and- -wait. Was that a rabbit? No, no something must have shifted strangely when he pressed the seal.

The blonde looked after him with a smile, truly child like;

The smile faded. He walked to one of the guards and held out a second message.

"See to it that this message reaches the king." He said in a monotone voice.

"Yes Me-Lord." The guard left the room swiftly. The other guard approached the man.

"What're the orders Me-Lord?"

"Send reinforcements to Orléans. We're not going down easily."

~~

Arthur's eyebrow twitched. Henry's neck seemed to disappear as he attempted to make his head recede into his body; staring shakily at the man sending the atmosphere so thick, one could cut a slice out of it.

"...Nine...days..." the blonde seethed; everyone else in the room subconsciously took a step back. "Nine..._days_." he slowly looked up from the parchment in front of him; resting behind tented fingers, a sinister shadow covering his eyes. Even though the man was sitting down, the aura that surrounded him was nothing short of horrifying. "Months of planning... After ground was lost and won...stalemate...all the men we lost...on the very _brink_ of victory...and then- -" As the nation spoke slowly, he started to rise volume as everyone hunched their shoulders so much it seemed as if they were worried their heads would roll off...which, considering the situation, wasn't that far-fetched.

"That..._woman_...arrives at the battlefield...and the _whole bloody siege is lifted after nine BLOODY FUCKING DAYS!?_" the man abruptly rose to his feet and threw the entirety of his desk to the floor; and they could have sworn that they saw the irate officer's hand twitch towards his sword (which almost sent dear Henry into hyperventilation). "What the_ FLIPPING_ FUCK were our soldiers DOING!?" he screamed as he stomped towards the small group of men, who in turn all took another step back. "Were they having a fucking _TEA_ BREAK!? Admiring the _WEATHER_?! Were they ignoring the bloody fact that there was a _FUCKING_ ARMY led by a FUCKING _BIRD_ coming their way with FUCKING SWORDS AND PIKES!?" he turned 90 degrees to his left and flipped the coffee table at his side with his pristine boot; his inhuman strength due to being an entire nation sending the heavy wooden table flying easily and hurtling in the direction of the wall, (Henry lost all feeling in his legs, which caused him to lose his balance and had to be held up by the two other men beside him, who were used to the man's outbursts of swears and strength). The table, having reached its destination, then promptly smashed into many, many toothpicks.

The seething nation stood trembling with rage for around five minutes waiting for himself to calm down, the tense atmosphere practically suffocating the men in the room; even when he finally did 'calm down' he still spoke slowly through clenched teeth.

"I will _not_ allow this woman to get the better of us; she has won the battle out of pure _luck_ and she shall _not_ win the war. You shall receive orders shortly, go and rest. Dismissed." The men left swiftly practically dragging the almost unconscious eighteen year old with them. Arthur stood in the middle of the room alone '..._Bugger_.' He'll have the maid clean the ex-table up later; the blonde dragged his hand down his face.

"And I traded in the seas for _THIS_..."

~~

The maids ended up having more work than they could handle.

Jeanne and the French seemed to be more powerful than the English had originally anticipated; unlike other army officials, Jeanne was more of a "Run-in-guns-a-blazin'" type of character (only with swords...swords-a-swingin'); her bolt-in, head-strong attitude not only raised French moral but took the English off guard, by which time it would already be too late.

Jeanne had put her own life in jeopardy to save the lives of her superiors and fellow soldiers; even sustaining a blow from a stone cannonball hitting her helmet as she climbed a ladder, and withstood an arrow to the chest.

Although everything he'd heard about the woman pissed him off to high heaven, Arthur truly respected the young woman's spirit; after all, she had pulled the arrow out herself and after a salve had been applied to heal the wound, Jeanne returned to the fight.

"I'm getting bloody tired of this..."the Englishman seethed as he read another report of failure. He stood up from behind his desk and faced the window, hands clasped behind his back; Henry, who was standing on the other side of the desk (a good three feet away mind you), was now getting used to the man's temper and had became accustomed to it over the months. He twitched slightly when his superior turned to him abruptly (an action that would have, a few months before, made poor Henry jump out of his skin).

"Henry."

"Sir?" the blonde hesitated for a moment.

"I want to see the general."

The meeting with the general was a short one, however it felt to Arthur as if they had taken hours to get nowhere; not only that, but his fears had been confirmed about Jeanne's future.

"You can't be serious about this..." the general; a largely built man measuring 6'3, sat lazily on the chair in front of Arthur, he smiled lopsidedly and swirled his wine.

"To kill a snake, you chop off its head." He lent back in his chair. "This woman is a Witch and nothing more."

"I'll have no part in it." Arthur said in a monotone voice; the man raised his eyebrows like a child had just made a smart remark, he lent forward slowly.

"I don't need your participation." He stood and placed his now empty glass on the small table beside him, going to his messenger on the other side of the room.

"Send this message to the Burgundians."

* * *

**Right! part 3! sorry it took so long but I'm a failure :'3 i felt that my dear Arthur had sort of taken a back seat in this story so here he is! i mean, HE was in the war too y'know about time we heard news form the other side. A****lso, VERY bad language in this one i'm so sorry if you're offened by ANY of it he's a gentleman...REALLY. I'm gonna change the story to M just to be sure**

**Although Arthur HAS just got off the seas..** **(I researched into it to see when the pirates were actually about, turns out, before and around Jeanne's time, SOOOOO I've made it that Arthur has pretty much just traded in his sea-legs XD)**

**And you've also just met My shameless OC Henry! I love him to pieces!. He was just supposed to be a faceless cameo character. he wasn't meant to be important. but he wiggled his way into my heart. I hope you huys like him cause he's gonna be in the rest of the story. (and In other stories I write)**  
**I don't know if the cockney accent existed back then but it's fun to write so lets just say it did ok? X3**

**oh God, the Burgundians we all know whats coming now...!**

**WOW that gerneral's a Bastard XD Arthur is a higher rank than him, could beat him senseless and he STILL acts like an arse! XD i can't believe i made someone up like that xD**  
**most of the info i researched came from wikipedia (lol, good ol' Wiki XD)**  
**in the next part you'll see a little more of Francis and Jeanne...however...it won't be in the happiest light.**

**Sorry for the wait and I hope to see you in the next Chapter :3 as always, reviews are greatly appreciated! **


	4. Chapter 4

_Jeanne..._

** "If and when the time comes..." **

_My Jeanne..._

** "I will also give you my life." **

_If only we could have stayed like this..._

"JEANNE!"

_If only we could have stayed like this forever..._

-After a minor action at La-Charité-sur-Loire in November and December, Jeanne travelled to Compiègne the following April to help defend the city against an English and Burgundian siege.-

"Mon Dieu..." There were so many of them... they made an impenetrable wall over the horizon. '_Oh Lord, please, give me strength.'_ Jeanne raised her sword.

"CHARGE!"

-A skirmish on 23 May 1430 led to her capture.-

Jeanne slashed another man to the ground; but no matter how many she took down, more would take their place; how many had she defeated? It seemed as though she hadn't defeated any at all. She still had her horse but how many had lost theirs? How many had lost more?

A man yelled her name through the chaos and she was brought from her trance.

"Jeanne! We've lost too many men already!" she looked at the bloodied man and back to the horde that lay around them.

"Merde...!" she raised her sword and turned her horse.

"RETREAT! RETREAT ALL OF YOU!"

"RETREAT!"

"RETREAT!"

A frenzy of yelling, a chorus of hooves pulverizing the ground as all turned to run, _'No more must die in vain... not today!'_

-When she ordered a retreat, she assumed the place of honour as the last to leave the field. Burgundians surrounded the rear guard. She was unhorsed by an archer and initially refused to surrender.-

"JEANNE!" he saw her leave her horse, an arrow in her shoulder; it was all in slow motion for him, he couldn't do anything, he couldn't reach her in time. Why hadn't she left first!? She was the one who was important! And that's precisely why they wanted her. Francis turned his horse.

Jeanne ripped the arrow from her shoulder with a groan, she tried to rise but they were already surrounding her; she couldn't face them all. She glowered at the men above her as they made her kneel and pulled her arms behind her back; she instantly began screaming streams of profanities in French as she struggled against the hold of her captors. Amidst the screaming, a man came forward and slapped her across the face, hard.

"I don't speak Frog. Surrender."

The woman glared up at him for a split moment. She threw her head and spat in the man's face. The man wiped his eye with three of his fingers silently.

"Take her."

_If only I could have done something..._

"Get away from her!" they heard a voice bellow as a man jumped from a horse into the fray, taking three men down in the process; he landed perfectly and took another two with one swing of his sword.

"FRANCIS!" He gave her a wink before he began fighting off the men one by one; using his incredible strength and centuries of skill to his advantage...

But even he couldn't defeat all of them.

Even Nations can fall.

"FRANCIS!" the cry came as a strangled sob; petrified in the throat as she saw her love fall.

_I was weak... In the end I couldn't do anything._

He was beaten to the ground. The hilt of a sword smashed into the back of his head. He fell unconscious to the ground and a man held a crossbow aimed to his head; Jeanne let out another shriek of sorrow and protest, begging for the man to stop, to spare him. The man's hand was held by the general.

"Leave him." He looked down on the blonde nation lying on the sullied grass; his wounds already healing.

"It won't do a thing."

_Jeanne...My Jeanne..._

"Francis! Get up Francis! Please! Get up!" the voice was hazy and was becoming farther and farther away...She was crying... He tried to move. Tried to open his eyes.

_I'm so sorry..._

"Francis!"

They were taking her away...Arthur was right.

"I don't want to lose you!"

_I'm...So sorry...My Jeanne..._

"FRANCIS!"

_I couldn't protect you..._

~~  


Yes, she was captured; but never did she lose her faith, her skill, or, in fact, her ability to somehow make so many escapes that the British had no idea whether they were coming or going.

"Sir! She's escaped!"

"AGAIN!? Jesus FUCKING wept what the bloody hell are those plonkers we call guards DOING!?" the General shot up from his chair and stomped across the room. "Might as well give her a ruddy KEY! Never trust bloody frogs as guards...fucking Burgundians." He muttered as he swung the door open, he jumped back at the man in the doorway, his bushy eyebrows raised and his mouth turned upward in an amused fashion; he tilted his head to the side as he saw the man fume visibly in front of him.

Well... as long as he's here he might as well enjoy it.

"Seems that Snake of yours is causing QUITE the palaver..." he said nonchalantly, folding his arms across his chest. "And after you sounded so confident about your abilities..." he clicked his tongue once and sucked air through his teeth, smirking proudly. "Expected more from you, mate."

"Watch yourself, SON." The general seethed, his arms shaking with rage. "I may not be able to kill you but I'll have a dammed good time beating you senseless."

Arthur's eyes grew instantly darker as he took a step forward into the room, forcing the general to take a step back in turn; Arthur liked that, he still struck fear into the hearts of men, no matter how big they were. He wasn't about to go soft anytime soon, he was still the blood curdling pirate he had once been... Well... Deep down.

"You have the GALL to say that to ME do you? My GOD... I don't know why you were let in on the secret about our true nature, but BELIEVE me...you wouldn't even lay a finger on me." He continued walking, causing the larger man to walk backwards until he fell into his chair; Arthur looked down on him with a condescending gaze. "Now shut your gob. And pay attention. Like a good little boy."

~~

"Mon Dieu... Why did I think this was a good idea...!?" she murmured as she grasped the edges of her prison windowsill, her hands sweating and breath trembling as she looked down at the ground; which was, at present, at least 70 feet away from her. Jeanne tucked her short hair behind her ears and took a few steadying breaths to reassure herself; this was about her fifth attempt at freedom, and each time she had come incredibly close, so close in fact that the bastards had moved her to a tower dangerously far away from the earth.

Not as if that would stop her though.

The tower was located in the middle of a disused moat that dried up a long time ago; Jeanne had observed that it had been raining recently, and considering that the ground would already be softer than usual because of leftover moisture in the moat, it SHOULD be softer than it would be.

The question was; would it be soft ENOUGH?

"If no one's going to come and get me..." she reasoned with herself. "I'll have to do this myself. I'm not alone... I am not alone." She closed her eyes. "Watch over me, please be my guardian and guide. Amen."

She jumped.

~~

"You can't do this! You can't just do nothing!"

"Francis, please. Calm yourself."

"How can you just sit here and not do anything!? Lord only knows what is happening to her right now! You have the power and authority! Why aren't you doing ANYTHING!?"

"We don't know if it is the right decision."

"_The right decision!?_ Without her we would have lost years ago! You know that I'm right! _She_ is the reason that we've come this far! _She_ is the one who has brought us to where we are! Without her we are nothing!"

The King rose from his seat and walked slowly down the carpeted marble stairs of the grand hall to look the nation in the eyes; an expression of despair shadowed his face as he placed a hand on Francis' shoulder.

"I'm truly sorry Francis..." he looked to the floor as he passed by the man, not being able to look him in the eyes any longer, the shame of it overwhelming him; Francis did not turn around, he looked straight ahead at nothing with wide eyes, he heard the King's voice again, barely audible and drenched with regret "I have made my decision." Francis heard the door shut behind him and he was alone in the vast hall; light streamed through every stain-glass window, illuminating everything in a warm, cleansing radiance. But Francis could no longer see the colours that surrounded him, everything was grey. She was his light, his world, his saviour, and now she was gone; ripped away from him and he didn't know if she was alright.

He knew she was alive, one of the positive aspects of the bond between a nation and its people, he could feel she was alive. But to what extent? And for how much longer?

**...Something bad is going to happen; I can feel it... ** Arthur's voice echoed inside his head. He was right, he was right all along; and now she was going to pay for his mistake. Francis felt growing tears sting his eyes.

"I'm so sorry Jeanne... My Jeanne. I'm so sorry..."

~~

Jeanne rolled as she hit the softened ground of the dried moat to lessen the impact to her body; though the 70 foot drop still hurt her, she wasted no time and instantly got to her feet and started running full speed. She wasn't certain about where she was but what she did know is that she had to keep running; she had to keep running until she found someone who would help her, bolting past bushes, finding anything for a use of shelter, she made her way back to the France that she knew.

It can be surprising how quickly information travels.

Within minutes she heard restless voices yelling to each other, orders being shouted and soldiers being directed to all areas; Jeanne was clueless as to what her enemies were saying and she wasn't able to stay in one place to keep watch for long, the soldiers were always moving and there was never a large window of opportunity for escape.

This plan was looking more futile with every minute that passed.

* * *

**Chapter 4! *cries* this story wasn't actually meant to be this long X'D it was only meant to be 4/5 chapters... but it just keeps going XD I can't seem to skip over parts of this story, I can't seem to stop myself from writing loads X'D**

**omg the general knows what they are! *gasp* but he got spat in the face. GOOD GIRL JEANNE! *slapped***

**_some history (from good ol' wiki where i get ALL my history from*hit* well not really but y'know) :_  
- Jeanne made several escape attempts  
- she escaped from a tower in Vermandois that was roughly 70 feet tall, jumping out her window and landing in the soft earth of a dry moat, she was then moved to the Burgundian tower of Arras  
-the english purchased her from the Burgundians  
- It was customary for a captive's family to ransom a prisoner of war. Jeanne was in an unusual circumstance. Many historians condemn King Charles VII for failing to intervene.**

**Good ol' Arthur showing that bastard General a thing or two (I'm really starting to dislike that man XDD)  
Even though the King didn't get Jeanne back, I made him regret it so I made the King out to be a nice guy? I mean... I don't think he would've just been like "Oh she was captured? Screw 'er then."**

**ANYWAY! sorry for the long Author's note. thank you for reading and as always, reviews and comments are hugely appreciated. I hope to see you next chapter so we can all cry together :'3 **


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright, Henry me lad, what's the word?" Arthur grinned and his cockney messenger boy handed him a letter nervously; Arthur had been in a good mood since he had gone to visit the General. He would never admit or boast about it, but he had thoroughly enjoyed knocking the pompous git down a peg...

Or five.

Sadly though, the news that Henry had brought the easily angered nation brought his mood down by a surprising amount; he read the message with a grave expression, Henry shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet (preparing to make a hasty retreat to a safe location if his superior lost his temper...again). When Arthur finally looked up from the piece of parchment, Henry was slightly taken aback by how the man looked more troubled and guilty than pleased or (as the case may have been) displeased; the blonde set the message down slowly.

"When was this sent?"

"This morning, me-Lord. Beggin' yeh pardon, me-Lord... But if I may be so bold, may I ask what the message says?" Arthur leaned back in his chair, heavy in thought, looking at the ceiling.

"It says that our Bird made another attempt at freedom." He said with the ghost of a smile, he truly was admiring the woman's spirit and skill; either that or he found the incompetence of the General's men and their inability to keep hold of a single woman highly amusing. "Came rather close as well, the blighter; however she has been captured and moved to another tower, one she cannot escape from. No matter how much she wants, or tries to." Once again, Henry shifted nervously.

"Beggin' yeh pardon again me-Lord, but..."

"It is not that particular part of the message that explains my expression, my lad..." Arthur said, realising what the boy was getting at and not removing his gaze from the ceiling. "There will be a trial. She has been accused of hearsay, the penalty for which is death. And honestly, there isn't much time, I am surprised to find that the King hasn't bargained to get her back... Too late now though, it seems our friend the General has purchased her from the Burgundians..." At last the nation leaned forward and rested his head on tented fingers. "It's just strange... Thought-provoking one might say. Bloody Hell... How must he feel about this?"

"Sir?"

"Pay no mind, Henry, simply thinking to myself..." Arthur paused, for a few moments there was silence in the room; then, almost suddenly, the blonde's expression changed to one of joyful revelation. "Right!" he said cheerfully as he bounded up and strode to the door to fetch his coat; Henry spun round and looked at his superior with distressed confusion, Arthur (now putting on his coat) jerked his head towards the door, signalling for the man to follow him.

"Where are we going me-Lord?" Henry asked, worried about the answer. Arthur simply turned to him with a giant grin on his face. This worried Henry even more.

"Gird your loins, Lad!" he said with a mischievous wink. "We're going to pay someone a visit!"

* * *

Everything around him was hazy, he wasn't exactly sure of where he was but he felt different to how he had been feeling recently; in this place, wherever it was, he felt much more at peace, as if all his troubles just didn't exist anymore.

"...cis?" a voice like silk could barely be heard, Francis walked to where it seemed to be coming from.

"Francis?" a figure appeared, fuzzy and difficult to make out in Francis' tired eyes; as he continued walking, it became the figure of a slender woman, sitting elegantly on a sofa in a small stone cottage, her long, dark blonde hair cascading down gracefully to her waist, Francis stopped at once. She was smiling at him warmly, he could see an amused glimmer in her eyes.

"What's the matter with you today?" she said with a beautiful sideways smile. How could she ask such a thing? Francis tried to call out her name but when his mouth opened, nothing came out. Ahh... a dream; of course she could not truly be with him. It hurt at first but then he thought that he would give anything to see her again, even if it was not real, even if he couldn't feel or speak to her.

He saw a man walk to her side, sit down beside her swirling a glass of red wine, looking into space; he was clean shaven and had long blonde hair with thoughtful blue eyes. Upon closer inspection, it became apparent that the man was him, a slightly younger Francis sitting beside a Jeanne who still had her freedom. A dream about the past... already the nation's chest began to hurt as he witnessed the scene of peaceful bliss, seeing his love smiling as she once had. The world had changed so much, how simple it all had once been. Was she still smiling? Was she waiting for him? Trapped in that cell completely alone...

"I think I'm going to grow a beard..." the man said suddenly taking a sip of his wine.

"What?"

"A beard. You know it goes here~" Jeanne slapped him lightly on the arm, smiling.

"Oh shut up, I KNOW what a beard is. Why would you want to grow one though? You look nice without one...though I've never seen you with one, so I can't really make a judgement." She said looking at him thoughtfully; a glimmer of mischief flashed through Francis' eyes, he grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well I know I'm already devilishly handsome - - OW!" Jeanne had punched him on the arm, though still smiling.

"Can you please be a serious man for once?"

"That's just it! That's why I want to grow a beard!" she raised an eyebrow.

"... You think a beard will make you more serious?"

"No. Ooowww..." she was now tugging on his shoulder length hair with a mock frown, which Francis took no notice of as he continued. "You see I'm quite an old nation obviously; I have more life experience than most and more knowledge by extension, so I've always seen myself as a sort of... 'Big Brother' to them I suppose. But I look so young; as do we all. SO I thought that if I look older, they may respect me more. Why are you laughing?" Jeanne couldn't help herself; she trying to hold it back as much as she could, but it was very obvious as she held a hand to her mouth as if it would stop her from laughing. She let herself calm down a little before she spoke.

"You realise, the growth of facial hair won't change one's opinion of you right? Not straight away at least, you actions matter too you know." Francis swirled his wine and placed an arm around her, smiling almost blissfully.

"Yes~ but looks are everything~ it's a good place to start yes?" he gave her a wink while she just looked at him in silence. She turned away, threatening to laugh again.

"I can't imagine you as a responsible Big Brother..." her words seemed to hit him physically; he pouted and rested his head on her shoulder, looking up like a hurt puppy.

"You should really have more faith in me woman..."

"Yes yes; I do have faith in you Francis.. And I'm sure you'll look very nice and very professional with a beard; but maybe you should just have a small one to begin with? See how you like it?" Instantly, the blonde nation's face lit up and a grin spread across his face, he tightened his grip around her, pulling her into his chest; she laughed and squealed in mock fear as she lightly fought against him. Again, Francis took no notice.

"You agree? Wonderful! I'll start today then!"

Their voices began to fade and the scene dissolved into muted colours, eventually fading altogether; it was at this point that Francis expected to wake up, however, he just stayed there, seemingly floating in space until suddenly, his feet touched the ground and all colours drained away. He looked around, confused and wary of his surroundings, his eyes fell upon a woman facing away from him, she was the only source of colour and light; her short hair, coming down to the nape of her neck, appeared to shine like a halo in the darkness that surrounded them both. Francis didn't have a chance to be happy, her shoulders were hunched over and her face was in her hands; she was shaking uncontrollably and he could hear her whimpering. His first instinct was to run to her, to hold her in his arms and to never let her go again, but as soon as he placed a hand on her shoulder, she grew instantly still, and they were both in silence.

Francis was hesitant. He drew his hand back. Was she really this scared? Something terrible must have happened to make her this petrified of anyone to even touch her... but he was sure that as soon as she saw it was him, everything would be alright. He willed his voice to work, and with a soft caring tone he said quietly;

"Jeanne?" the woman flinched, but did not turn around. Francis was growing increasingly worried; he encouraged her to speak, to turn around, but she didn't budge. "Jeanne?" he said again. A reply didn't come. "Jeanne, can you hear me? Are you alright?" his voice never lost the caring tone but it grew more serious. Now he knew that something was horribly wrong. "Jeanne...Please, answer me." But she did not; again he placed a hand on her shoulder, and again she flinched but made no other movement. "Jeanne, it's me, Francis." He heard her breath hitch. Francis saw this reaction as a positive. "Yes, Francis, remember? Please look at me Jeanne, please tell me what happened..." he turned her to face him.

What he saw chilled him to his very core. Her eyes were wide and full with tears of torture and pain, such a look of betrayal was carved into her once beautiful features that it stabbed his heart. Her mouth opened and let out a horrific, piercing scream that echoed in the abyss around them; tears flowed from her eyes but they were not tears of sorrow.

Hatred, fear and betrayal were the only things those cold tears held. Francis was petrified in a state of shock; he tried to reach for her, but she only screamed louder. He stumbled back as Jeanne started to shake uncontrollably again, she hugged her arms around her as if she was freezing, her eyes still wide with horror; she started to lose her balance as if she was wounded, exhausted. Francis tried to reach for her again but she hit his hand away and screamed ever louder.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" she screeched. His eyes widened as he stepped back. He was in a stunned silence as she stood whimpering. Francis stepped forward with his hand outstretched

"Jeanne..." he said quietly, hurt and confused "It's me...Francis. Don't you remember?" her head snapped up, eyes still wide; she stared at him as she cried and shook with fear.

"Francis...?" his face lit up as he stepped forward again, reaching for her.

"Yes, it's me, Jeanne, it's me. It's alright now, I'm here." But Jeanne didn't stop shaking. More tears rolled down her cheeks and her grip tightened, drawing blood from her arms. Francis bolted forward to stop her but she struck him across the face; her eyes wide and silent. Francis stood motionless. Wide eyed with horror. She wouldn't go near him. She didn't want him to even touch her.

"**Why**!" she screamed in his face. "**_Why_**!" blood was dripping down her arms and more tears escaped her eyes. Francis stumbled back and fell, forced to look up at his love scream and thrash as if in unimaginable pain. "_Why did you do this to me!_" Francis' eyes widened.

"Jeanne..." he started to get up.

"_NO!_" she stumbled back. "_Don't come near me! Don't touch me! STAY AWAY!_"

"Jeanne...I-"

"_You did this to me! You left me here to rot you left me here YOU LEFT ME HERE!_" she grabbed her head and started thrashing from side to side as if gone mad. She screamed and cried and shook and bled and there was nothing Francis could do to stop her.

"_WHY!?"_ She cried, the suffering burning through her voice, desperate and betrayed._ "YOU SAID YOU'D ALWAYS BE THERE! YOU LEFT ME HERE FRANCIS WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME HERE WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME! YOU LEFT ME TO ROT YOU LEFT ME TO DIE YOU LEFT ME TO **BURN**! WHY FRANCIS WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME HERE!"_

"That's not true..." he whispered, tears rolling down his cheek "That's not true!"

But she had stopped.

She stood. Arms swaying by her sides and looking to something above her. Eyes wide and full of tears. Horror flooded her face.

"_No..._" she said barely audible. "_No...! Stay away from me! Please no! STOP! PLEASE! STAY AWAY FROM ME!_" Francis saw nothing. Jeanne screamed and struggled against an invisible force.

Then nothing.

Everything was black and Francis couldn't see a thing. All he could hear was Jeanne's screams. He looked frantically around him, screaming her name as she shrieked and cried. Then she returned.

Bloodied and motionless on the floor lying away from him. He ran to where she lay and knelt beside her.

"Jeanne! Please say something! Jeanne! Jeanne can you hear me!"

"_...Why..._" She whispered through a blood filled mouth, still she did not face him. "_Why did you leave me here...Francis._" She was crying almost silently. Francis instantly moved her into his lap, turning her to face him, and wiped away her tears, ignoring the blood that now stained everything she touched.

"Jeanne" he moved the hair out of her face. "_MY_ Jeanne... I love you more than anything... I don't want to lose you. Please... Believe me..." she looked at him silently, raised a hand to his cheek and smiled.

Then her eyes grew wide again as her face contorted in growing pain.

She screamed as her body burst into flames.

"JEANNE!" Francis bolted up, panting. He was in his study, sitting in the chair behind his desk. He wiped his forehead and rested his head in his hands; he couldn't shake this horrible feeling, Jeanne's screams were still ringing in his head. Something was wrong.

Something was horribly wrong.

* * *

Jeanne heard the door of her cell creak open, she turned slowly to see the tall burly figure of the General, dismissing the guard who was on duty; he then turned to her with a grotesque lopsided smile as he shut the cell door behind him.

"'Ello Birdie." Jeanne sat upright, head lifted in defiant pride. "Well well, proud little girlie aren't you? We can't understand a bloody thing either of us are saying but, that doesn't matter right now." Jeanne didn't like the way he was talking, not at all. "Don't know why you're being so proud. No one's comin' to get you. You belong to us now." He leaned in close to her and breathed in her scent; Jeanne's eyes widened in disgust; she turned her whole body swiftly, smashing her shackles into the side of his face and throwing him off her to the side. She yelled a stream of French profanities as he shakily rose to his feet, wiping blood away from his mouth; when she finished yelling she turned her head and spat to the side of her, glaring at him with defiant, fiery eyes.

"Well, it looks like we've been feeding you too much, you proud little bitch." He grinned and moved towards her again.

"Seems to me I have to show you the only thing a woman like you is good for."

* * *

**Chapter 5! ...I'm sorry it took so long OTL and holy crap. things are getting real :'D I'm now really hating the fact that I created the General :'I **

**GOD i suck and writing Romance... I'm so much better at violence...which is worrying really huh?**

**i STILL really love Henry XD and the way Arthur treats him XDD also, I've always wanted to use the phrase "Gird your loins" XDD so i enjoyed writing that little episode X3 it also shows that Iggy DOES care about Francis, even if only a little **

**originally, it was just gonna be the nice dream but then for some reason i thought it would be more dramatic if it turned into a nightmare and had lots of violence and screaming... cause I'm actually GOOD and writing THAT stuff *slapped***  
**also, i think it sort of shows his "inner turmoil" and his "bond" to Jeanne? so he can tell something horrid is about to happen to her? ugh. i suck at writing X'D **

**ok that General is an Ofiicial sick bastard now! effing pervert! DX**

**anyway, look forward to the next part...though it probably won't get too much brighter...**


	6. Chapter 6

Jeanne's gaze followed the General as he rose to his feet, her expression disgusted and fearful; she recoiled away from him as he took a step closer, watching him cautiously. She couldn't understand the man's language in the slightest, but she was growing more wary of the man's presence with each passing second; his expression and tone of voice were distressing her immensely. Everything he did was disturbing to her, her mind screaming that something was horribly wrong.

The reaction from the woman before him was a victory for the General, as a horrible lopsided smirk spread across his face; through all her pride, she was afraid of him. Good. He would break her spirit in the most humiliating way imaginable, he would destroy her entirely. He patted his mouth and inspected the blood on his fingers with a lazy expression.

"Well, it looks like we've been feeding you too much, you proud little bitch." He grinned and took another step forward. "Seems to me I have to show you the only thing a woman like you is good for."

He slammed his large hands over her shoulders, pinning her to the cold, dank stone of the cell wall; she gazed up at the mocking face of the General, her eyes growing wide with terror as realization of his true intentions made her blood run cold. She instantly thrashed and struggled, screaming protests and using every small amount of strength she had left in her body to escape the man above her; but he was stronger. Her back began to bleed from being scraped across the jagged walls, her energy failing, her voice growing hoarse from her cries; futilely thrashing and pushing him away from her, continuing only through her will alone.

He revelled in her resistance, simply keeping her pinned where she was, smiling grotesquely as he witnessed all that remained of her strength seep out of her. Anything that would make the deed easier for him, he didn't want her moving about the whole time. When he decided that her protests had grown weak enough, he started to rip through her issued prison gown, tearing easily through the material with one hand, keeping her in place with the other.

This action caused Jeanne to fight against him with new desperation, her voice rising to yelps and cries and sobs; though her throat was painfully rasping and her voice was dry and cracked she still found single ounces of strength, however even those were swiftly leaving her. She knew it was hopeless.

No one was coming.

No one cared.

No one was going to rescue her from her fate.

* * *

"Beggin' yeh pardon me-Lord, but ...Is this even allowed?" Henry stuttered as he tottered after his superior, trying to keep up with his quick step; following closely behind him through the stone corridors, looking around him nervously. Arthur grinned.

"Nonsense me-Lad!" he said with a slight laugh, confident in his plan which had been brewing in his mind since they left his office. "I am of higher rank than anyone here, as long as you're with me, we may go anywhere we please. Besides, there's only one guard inside this building, if he gives us trouble, we can just conk 'im out!" he turned to Henry with a laugh as his messenger's face turned pale. "'Twas simply a jest me-Lad, simply a jest!" he grinned as Henry sighed with obvious relief, laughing sheepishly himself. All other guards were posted outside, surrounding the tower, in case the woman made another miraculous escape, Arthur passed these men with no effort, so the one man within should be no problem, he was confident of that.

Arthur's step slowed as he noticed a man coming down the corridor in the opposite direction to Henry and himself, as he came closer, Arthur's brow furrowed slightly in confusion; his smile dissolved and his tone became instantly serious.

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur said meeting the man in the middle of the corridor face to face. "You're meant to be on guard of the prisoner. Why are you not at your post?" the guard met him respectfully and stood to attention.

"General Perkins, Sir; He gave me leave and assured me that he would keep watch of the prisoner for the rest of the day, bidding me home." His superior's eyes widened ever so slightly before staring down the corridor the man had just travelled.

"General Perkins?" he said in a quietly serious tone.

"Aye, Sir." Came the reply, slightly taken aback by the reaction this information received.

"Carry on."Arthur ordered, not removing his gaze from the darkened hallway as he started down it again, at a quicker pace.

"Aye, Sir." He said, perturbed by the man's manner as he went on his way again.

Henry jogged after his superior to catch up with him; he had to keep this pace as Arthur himself seemed to be walking with tremendous speed, it was now that Henry was overjoyed about how he was not fully clad in heavy armour at this point.

"Me-Lord!" he yelped as he was just matching his speed, "What's happened, me-Lord?" Arthur didn't slow down, if anything he picked up speed, not averting his gaze from the path in front of him.

"I don't know." All humour he had previously held, no longer had any place in his hushed voice as he started to gain more speed. "But I have a horrible feeling; and I am not going to let this one come to fruition." He said with finality, breaking into a run. The centuries Arthur had spent avoiding his siblings 'loving' attacks had made him a fast little blighter, and he thanked the heavens for this skill now more than ever. Henry chased after him, once again trying to match his speed with difficulty, worried of what they might find.

* * *

She struggled against the hand holding her, kicking out against her shackles and trying to hit them against her assailant; the metal that bound her hands and feet were proving her greatest enemy, the weight alone was draining her willpower to lift them, the metal grinding her wrists and ankles raw. She clenched her eyes tightly closed as she felt the fabric of her clothes ripped apart, still shouting to the best of her ability, weakly pushing against the man above her.

Suddenly everything stopped.

She was panting, legs curled away from her assaulter in fear, her shackled hands brought up to her bare chest protectively, hanging on to what dignity she had left. She opened her eyes hesitantly one by one; Jeanne's breathing stopped as she saw the man above her staring straight through her, eyes wide open, the breath seemingly caught in his throat as is arms shook slightly with the weight of his body. Perkins' eyes slowly rolled into the back of his head as he flopped onto Jeanne's lap, motionless. She yelped with surprise and instantly shoved him from on top of her, his limp body slumping on the stone floor with a thud. Her head snapped up to see two young men; one by the cell door and another standing above and slightly away from her, he seemed to be holding what looked like chair legs, which had been broken with obvious impact.

She had been saved.

* * *

(Hang on; let's go back a bit...)

* * *

The two men ran at full speed down the deserted stone corridor, glad that they weren't wearing armour to weigh them down and give away their presence. As they ran, they began hearing faint cries of distress, which grew instantly louder with every step taken; even if one could not understand the language, it was obvious that something terrible was happening, the screams piercing through the empty walls.

Arthur, of course, COULD understand. He was horrified and disgusted. Instantly breaking into a sprint towards the noise with newfound determination, followed closely by his young companion. They swung the door open silently and saw what Perkins was attempting; Arthur's blood boiled in his veins as he clenched his fists, prepared to punch the General's head clean off and to hell with the consequences. However, he didn't get his chance; for Henry didn't even break his stride.

All he saw was a blur of orange as Henry shot passed him full pelt, swinging by the table near the door where the guards sat to grab the chair next to it, heading straight for the prisoner's assaulter. The young man could barely grind to a halt before smashing the wooden chair across Perkins' head and shoulders, shattering the small piece of furniture in a shower of splinters and chunks of timber. All that was left of the chair were the two legs Henry had been holding; Henry himself stood frozen in shock of what he had just done. Arthur, still stood by the cell door, blinked at his normally timid companion as he stood over the unconscious body of a man more than twice his size; silence filled the room.

'_Bloody hell, Henry...'_ thought Arthur, a rather proud smirk slowly spreading across his face, _'I'm giving you a raise!'_ He stepped forward and cleared his throat, Jeanne's head instantly snapped round to face the blonde man, curling up even more, covering her shame defensively; Arthur paused, seeing how frightened she was, even though they had saved her from a lascivious man, she didn't know why they had done it, nor what they were planning to do to her now.

"Henry." He said in a low voice, looking over at his still shaken friend; the young man turned slowly with worry painted all over his face, still holding the chair legs.

"Sir?" he whispered shakily. "What did I just do?"

"Something that has certainly made me rather fond of you." He replied with a soft smile, placing a hand on his shoulder; Arthur kept his voice calm and low. "Look after her for a while," Henry's eyes shot open. He screamed in hushed whispers, his cockney accent somehow becoming stronger with distress as a gigantic blush found its home over his entire face.

"WH-?! But Sir! What am I meant to do? I can't speak the language! I don't know 'ow to talk to women to begin with! And- and she's a woman and she's French and she's the enemy and she's - -"

"Scared." Arthur cut in forcing Henry into a stunned silence, the young man looked at Jeanne helplessly, his superior looking at them both with sympathy. "And she needs human kindness more than anything right now." His companion looked down in defeat, his voice still made dumbfounded spluttering as he floundered for something to say.

"What am I supposed to say...?" he said finally, Arthur gave another soft smile.

"Henry, if I've learnt anything from the time you've worked for me it's that you have a good heart, and you would never leave someone who was in need. You'll know what to do. Now..." he glanced to the giant man lying on the floor, his tone darkened considerably. "I have something to take care of." He slowly made his way over to the man's foot, being careful not to alarm the poor woman; taking a firm hold of Perkins' ankle, Arthur dragged him, without effort, carelessly across the stone - making sure his scraped a few things on the floor as he went - the ghost of a smirk on the corner of his lips.

But of course no one saw it; he was being completely serious. He wasn't enjoying this at all. No. Not at all.

Never.

As the door gently closed behind them – well sort of, poor old Perkins seemed to get his big ugly face caught between it and the frame, but a few good slams of the door and yanks from the other side fixed that right up don't you worry – Henry turned to the woman who still looked as frightened as ever.

* * *

Arthur smacked Perkins round the face until he came round again, he was just barely conscious; he couldn't bring himself to his feet, but that was just fine, Arthur still had more strength in his little finger than the General had in his entire body. The shorter man easily lifted Perkins to his feet roughly by the front of his doublet, slamming him into the wall, knocking the breath out of him. Arthur kept his voice calm and smooth, his volume never reaching above normal speaking level, his tone however was as if Perkins had stepped into hell itself, and it chilled the man to his core.

"Perkins." his voice was deadly serious, pushing him into the stone wall behind him before punching him across the face; he slumped down to the floor. Standing above the General, Arthur forced him to look up by grabbing his doublet, he continued to beat the General around, all the while, his voice never wavered, never raised, and never lost its deadly tone.

"You disgusting." *SLAM* "Disgraceful." *WHACK* "Revolting." *PUNCH* "_Repulsive_. Excuse of a Human Being." Perkins opened his eyes hesitantly, wracked with pain; a grotesque smirk slowly appeared on his face.

"What's this, Kirkland...?" Perkins coughed "You a French sympathizer now?" Well _that_ showed some gall. In the face of possible death and he _still_ acts like a pompous git whose up his own arse. Arthur, not showing that the comment had infuriated him further, simply looked down at him condescendingly, raising a large eyebrow before swiftly kicking him in the stomach; Perkins slumped sideways holding his middle with a grunt. Arthur crouched beside him and said, in a very well-spoken manner.

"I, Perkins - unlike You – am a Gentleman. If you had been on my ship even a few years ago, you'd be dead by now. As it is, you're lucky I haven't made you a eunuch. If I were not such a gentleman, believe me I would have ripped the damn thing right off myself and shoved it down your throat. But, I digress; plans of your castration aside," With one hand, Arthur dragged the large man to his feet by his throat; he came closer as the man struggled weakly, fighting for breath, his tone darker than before.

"I am going to let you live. And I am going to personally ensure, that you will leave this country, without a single _shred_ of honour to your name. You will never have another respectable profession in your miserable life. You are a disgrace to your Family, to your King, and to your country." Perkins was lifted off the ground as Arthur raised him above his head. Perkins gazed down at the man holding him in the air, his eyes widened as Arthur seemed to admit a small glow around him, his blonde hair seeming like a halo against their dark surroundings, his eyes shining with a powerful fire. However these eyes showed such darkness that Perkins feared his wrath more than death itself.

"What _are_ you...?" he managed to choke out. A small smirk spread across Arthur's face, making fear shoot through the other man's spine; Arthur said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I. _Am_. England." And he knocked the General into unconsciousness.

Arthur left Perkins on the floor and returned to the room where he had left Henry and Jeanne, only to find them both sitting on the floor, Jeanne wearing Henry's over shirt – leaving Henry in his shift and britches- and gently holding his hand; Arthur smiled, _'I knew he'd be fine.'_

"'Allo Kiddies, what's all this then?" Arthur said suddenly, purposefully making himself known, much to Henry's devastation. Said 19 year-old spun round, instantly turning such a deep shade of red. Arthur was a little afraid the boy was about to spontaneously combust; Jeanne on the other hand simply looked up, curious of the new voice. Henry swiftly pulled his hand out of Jeanne's grasp and got up to stand to attention.

"Ah there you are me-lord I didn't hear you come in me-lord how long have you been standing there me-lord?" he mumbled at high speed seeming highly interested on the stitch work of the blonde man's shoes; Arthur didn't even bat an eyelid.

"Well my boy I just came in now actually, to see you practically half naked on the cell floor with the prisoner." He said nonchalantly keeping his face completely free of humour.

"I swear it's not what you think!"

"Don't worry lad, I'm pulling your leg, you did the right thing." He said with a laugh, unable to see the boy flounder with embarrassment any longer, even if only for a giggle. "I'll take it from hear, Henry." He said patting the boy on the shoulder as he past him, leaving him in his mortified silence.

"Her name's Shoan, or something. I - I can't really get past her accent..." Henry managed to say.

"Ahh of course, thank you Henry. I think we would pronounce it 'Joan' though." Henry blushed a little at his error and proceeded to just observe. Jeanne watched Arthur carefully as he came towards her; he stopped a little way from her and bowed, giving her an earnest look.

"Greetings Madam, I sincerely apologize for what you have been through today," he said in flawless and fluent French. Henry's jaw hit the floor. "But I assure you that I have taken care of the matter." Jeanne looked at him blankly.

"You can speak French."

"Of course I can blo- -!" he began irritably but stopped himself _'You are a Gentleman, Arthur. You are a GENTLEMAN.'_ He cleared his throat, straightening up as he did so. "Yes, Madam, I can speak your language; in my profession I am required to." he said respectfully; once again, Jeanne looked at him for a while, almost seeming to study him; Arthur was becoming uncomfortable under her gaze when Jeanne suddenly said something very unwise.

"Your Eyebrows." Said eyebrow twitched as Arthur gallantly tried to restrain his growing anger, Henry took a step back; never mind what language he was speaking, Henry knew when to get out of the man's immediate reach.

"I beg your pardon, Madam?" he said politely in a slightly strained voice.

"They're huge."

"WH-" Arthur scoffed _'You are a gentleman! A gentleman gentleman gentleman gentleman gentleman gentleman!'_ he continued to scream in his head as he almost (ALMOST) visibly shook with restrained fury. Henry started slowly and carefully retreating to the door and Jeanne didn't notice as she started to put two and two together.

"Could it be...? That you are, Monsieur Kirkland!" Arthur blinked in surprise, Henry halted his retreat and instead took a step forward, hearing the name of his superior he was just as surprised as Arthur himself.

"She knows you me-Lord?"

"She knows _of_ me it seems." He replied with a rather astounded tone. "Henry, can you please get Joan some clothes, we can't have her wearing your shirt for the rest of her time here, and we can't have you tottering about in your shift now can we? Off you go." He said shooing the man away, who left in much confusion to say the least. "Oh, and while you're at it, you can accompany General Perkins out," he placed a note in Henry's hand, pushing him towards the door. "Give this to the guards and they'll see him home, ready for the next ship to England tomorrow morning."

"Bloomin' 'eck...! What on Earth happened to him?" Henry exclaimed, looking at the beaten lump of General against the wall.

"Oh goodness well I haven't the foggiest idea, now then off you go." Arthur avoided the question smoothly and swiftly changed the subject, running over Henry's instructions again and practically shoving him out the door to deal with the huge unconscious General.

"May I ask, how did you come to hear of me, Madam?" Arthur asked, turning back to Jeanne.

"Francis." she replied, smiling; a little more certain that these men would not harm her, and feeling no need to be hostile towards them. After all, it wouldn't do any help. "He told me many things about you; he felt I needed to know of you and others when I learnt of his true self. There, were many amusing stories too." She said laughing a little, much to Arthur's distress _'Oh God what has he told her...?'_

"Yes well, many things he's probably lied about." He said clearing his throat again.

"Have you come to free me, Monsieur?" she asked hesitantly, Arthur sighed and glanced at her sympathetically.

"I apologize Madam, but I have not. You see, I cannot go against my King, and your situation is already beyond my influence." Jeanne's face fell, sighing as her spirit began to slip back into despair; her brow furrowed slightly, looking up at Arthur again, tilting her head to the side cautiously.

"Then why _are_ you here...?" at this, the blonde man smiled warmly, bowing slightly.

"I cannot free you, but there are things I _can_ get away with, but we will have to be careful."

"Why are you doing this? I am your enemy, I do not wish for you to take pity on me because I'm a woman. It is probably the only reason I have made it here, and why I am still alive."

"On the contrary Madam." Arthur cut it respectfully. "I assure you, that is not the case; admittedly, I first tried to convince Francis not to let you step one foot onto the battlefield; every one of my soldiers were instructed to treat you as any other foe." He chuckled lightly. "However, apparently, you can handle yourself perfectly well with a sword," He continued with a laugh, a sound very uncharacteristic of him, especially while talking of his defeats. "You cannot imagine the fury that boiled inside me whenever I gained word of a failure on my part, by _your_ hands." The woman's face seemed to brighten considerably from this news, glancing down with a smile almost in disbelief. "And so, Madam," he continued "With every message of failure, _despite_ this fury, I found myself respecting you as a talented and driven, if not somewhat stubborn, strategist and solider. As well as a formidable opponent." Jeanne looked up at Arthur with bright eyes as he bowed lower, smiling softly.

"You should despise me..." she whispered, shaking her head slightly in confusion; why was he being so kind? Now of all times?

"And yet I am saddened by your capture." He replied softly, his smile fading; he took her hand and kissed it lightly. "War is a pitiful occurrence, Madam. And no person should have to endure the burden you have been forced to bear... And certainly does not deserve to tolerate what you have been through today."

Arthur straightened up as Henry entered the room, carrying a bundle of clothes.

"General's taken care of," he reported as he handed some of the clothes to his superior "And these were all I could find, I'm not sure if they'll fit her... And they're men's clothes, is that all right me-lord?" he said, holding up a garment and raising a worried eyebrow.

"Perfectly sufficient, lad. This will at least hinder any further attacks. She's used to it anyway so I'm sure they'll do." he replied, taking the bundle and handing the garments to Jeanne.

Once she was changed, the two men turned to her again; Henry bowed at practically a right angle, snapping back up swiftly.

"Miss Joan." He said stiffly, she smiled in response.

"Merci, Au-revoir 'Enry." The young man nodded and quickly took his leave, Arthur followed and turned back as he reached the door.

"I shall return, Madam, and when I do, I shall bring a gift; until that time, I shall try and make your stay slightly more comfortable, however do not expect much." He said with a smile.

"I look forward to it. Merci, Monsieur Kirkland." He bowed slightly in response; he was about to leave but Jeanne called him back.

"Monsieur," she said hesitantly. "Will Henry be safe?"

"I give you my word, Madam. I assure you, he is simply a messenger; besides, he's older than yourself." he replied with a smile, which broadened when the woman's eye widened.

"That... is not what I expected."

"Believe me, I was just as surprised as you." He smiled and nodded once in farewell, softly closing the door behind him. Jeanne was once again left alone, however she still smiled as she fiddled with her new clothes, looking out the small window which she could not climb through; in that moment, her world seemed the smallest bit brighter, she had been shown kindness and she knew that this world was not without compassion.

Though she wasn't to know, that her future was becoming darker with each passing second.

* * *

**some history from wiki:**  
**- she should have been confined to a prison under the supervision of female guards (i.e., nuns). Instead, the English kept her in a secular prison guarded by their own soldiers. **  
**- she agreed to wear feminine clothing. A few days later she told a tribunal member that "a great English lord had entered her prison and tried to take her by force." She resumed male attire either as a defense against molestation or, in the testimony of Jean Massieu, because her dress had been stolen and she was left with nothing else to wear.**  
**- she continued to wear male clothing in prison to deter molestation and rape. Preservation of chastity was another justifiable reason for cross-dressing: her apparel would have slowed an assailant, and men would be less likely to think of her as a sex object**  
**- She also kept her hair cut short through her military campaigns and while in prison. Her supporters, such as the theologian Jean Gerson, defended her hairstyle, as did Inquisitor Brehal later during the Rehabilitation trial**

**In my opinon, Arthur wouldn't tolerate that sort of thing. It's the one thing he wouldn't do on his ship and he forbade any one of his crew to perform the disgusting act. He usually castrated and/or killed anyone who disobeyed. so maybe Arthur's being to nice and freaking out to much over this but he has a soul so there! XD after all, he's a gentleman. **

**were ANY of you expecting Henry would save her? GOD I love that boy!**

**my buzz was totally killed though when i wrote the last sentence... just reminds you of how this is gonna end.**

**So I'm sorry for such a long chapter and for how dark this story is getting (but you knew it was going to happen X'D) and I apologise for not updating in so long. I hope you join me for later chapters! :3**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: This is a filler chapter, showing what happened while Arthur was dealing with Perkins. So this chapter focuses on Henry and Jeanne. owo/**

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As the door gently closed behind them – well sort of, poor old Perkins seemed to get his big ugly face caught between it and the frame, but a few good slams of the door and yanks from the other side fixed that right up don't you worry – Henry turned to the woman who still looked as frightened as ever.

He thought for a second. 'When you're scared, everything's scary.' He thought. 'You don't want anything above you, it's intimidating; it's frightening, so the first thing to do is - -' he plopped down to the floor in front of her, still obviously concentrating, sitting cross-legged; unfortunately, this sudden movement startled the girl and she tried to back away and melt into the wall behind her. Henry took this as a bad sign. He panicked and he held out his arms like you would do to a startled horse.

"No, i-it's ok, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you, it's alright don't worry." He kept his voice level and calm; it seemed to help, but she was still wary. However – unbeknownst to him – Jeanne appreciated the calming voice, and it helped her relax, it really seemed like he wasn't going to do anything.

At seeing the woman relax a little, Henry smiled, encouraged by the reaction; his eyes subconsciously glanced down to her chest. Oh dear. That wasn't right at all. His blush rushed back onto his face with a vengeance as he looked elsewhere; then an idea hit him. He hurriedly removed his over-shirt (much to Jeanne's shock) leaving him in his shift. 'This is so embarrassing...!' he thought, holding out the shirt at arm's length and keeping his gaze on the floor. 'I'm practically naked!' at first, the woman shied away slightly, but as she grasped the situation, she smiled and took the offering, slipping it on. It was far too big for her, baggy even from Henry's lanky frame, coming down to halfway down her thighs, just above the knees. She tucked her legs into it to cover more of her bareness, clearing her throat to tell Henry it was safe to look.

Looking back, Henry smiled as it seemed the woman was much more comfortable with his presence.

"Oh! We haven't been properly introduced." He said suddenly, the gentleman in him taking over; he held out his hand at arm's length again, but this time for a handshake. "I'm Henry." He said with a smile. She looked at him blankly for a while; her eyes darted from his face, down to his hand, then back to his face again. "HENRY." he said again, slower and pointing to himself. "Henry...Henry...? Oh Lord I feel like a pilock..." he looked to his side; he could barely stand his humiliation. 'It's like I'm a five year old...'

"...ry." Henry's head spun round, the woman was smiling kindly at him and shifted her position so she was facing him properly and more comfortable. "'Enry." She said again, her voice flowing softly as the purest stream. "Bonjour, 'Enry." He blinked.

"Enly? No, no not 'Enly' 'Henry' HUH, HENry." He said, stressing the 'H' in his name. The woman simply nodded slowly, smiling at his silliness.

"'ENry." She said, slower; Henry stared blankly for a second, before smacking his lips once in hopelessness. He then remembered someone telling him that the French, for some strange unknown reason, couldn't pronounce their 'H's and swallowed their 'R's when speaking, they never really grasped why they didn't pronounce things properly; his blush retuned once again as he fiddled with his shift and looked elsewhere.

"Alright fair enough suit yourself 'Enly' it is then..." he mumbled without any pauses whatsoever. The woman giggled at his reaction, it sounded like the sweetest bells and she smiled with true happiness; she was so glad that she had been shown some compassion in this dark place. Henry's eyes shifted back to the woman's face, still blushing profusely; she laughed again and pointed to herself.

"Jeanne." She said softly, Henry nodded slowly.

"Sshoan...? Is that like Shona? I 'ave an aunt in Liverpool called Shona, moved there from Glasgow she did, doesn't like it much in Liverpool though mind you. Always swears she's gonna move back up north but she never has, she always said:" he changed his voice to a higher pitched, very bad Scottish accent, making sure to roll his 'R's as much as possible. "'I can-nee stand AL this city' she says, 'I never shoulda left the ROLLING green hills where I was bred.' She says. And I'm thinking, 'If yeh didn't want te leave yeh precious hills, why'd yeh move in the first place?' she - -" but then he realized that Jeanne was laughing not because of his story, but because of his voice and the way he was rambling on; she was like a small child listening to a story she didn't understand, but still laughed at all the funny voices. He looked at her 'Not-sure-what-to-do' smile, an expression that said: "Look, I'm sure this is a great story but I have no clue what you're blinkin' saying mate." (His words not her's). He shifted uncomfortably, turning a lovely shade of scarlet, clearing his throat again. "Right. Of course... No English." She laughed again at his self-consciousness, Henry shook his head a little, "Right, anyway; 'Sshoan'." He said signalling to her, she winced ever so slightly at the badly pronounce French but still smiled as she presented her hand, palm down.

"'Enry." She replied; a huge smile appeared on Henry's face, he took her hand and shook it firmly with both of his.

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you Miss Sshoan!" Jeanne's smile became a little more nervous at the strange greeting, letting her arm flop about. Men usually KISSED her hand not swing it all about the place; and not to mention her hands were still shackled, which just made it more awkward. She laughed more fully this time and Henry seemed just as happy. Henry snuck a glance at the laughing woman, she must not have been much older than him, maybe even younger; she shouldn't be in this war, let alone leading it, he was just a messenger boy, and even THAT profession had huge risks. 'The French really are barbarians...' he thought 'Making a young and beautiful woman fight for – wait what?' he quickly shook his head and released her hand like it was hot, blushing even more than he was (if it's possible, he was just getting rid of that too...).

He resumed fiddling with his shift looking for something to say, even if she couldn't understand, anything would be better than silence.

"I'm sorry that we didn't get here sooner." He said suddenly, becoming quiet and more serious, "I mean, originally, we weren't even going to come here; it was all Lord Kirkland's idea, I don't know what he was planning but it included you, I think, and I was just coming because he wanted me to. I'm just glad we got here in time..." he looked to the cell door, "I don't know what happened." He turned back to look at the floor. "I don't know what came over me, we already feared the worst when we saw that guard, and then we heard the screams and- and we saw HIM and he was trying to, do THAT and I don't know I was just so angry, I never thought I could..." he searched for words but nothing came to mind, he sighed, defeated in himself. "I'm just sorry you had to go through that, I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner, I'm sorry that you're here in the first place, I'm sorry you're- -"

"'Enry?" she looked worried; Henry looked at her sympathetically for a moment, he wracked his brain, trying to remember what little language he tried to teach himself before he came out here, he never thought he was going to use it but he did it all the same, he had only learnt the basics – and the term 'learnt' is used very lightly – but the basics were all he needed.

"Uh... Jay, swee... Des-oh-lee... Jay swee des-oh-lee..." his accent was rubbish, his pronunciation was terrible, but his heart was in the right place; and Jeanne knew that. It was hard for her to understand his horrible French to begin with, but he kept saying it until she seemed to understand, and when she did, her eyes softened and her expression was almost sweetly sad; she took his hand gently and looked at him with true sincerity.

"Merci, 'Enry." Henry smiled nervously, he had never been in a situation like this and he had hardly imagined that something like this would happen in battle. Jeanne chuckled at his shyness, seeing him turn profusely red again, she appreciated his sincerity and innocence; how old must he have been? 16? He must be, because he certainly acted like it; so he was barely a boy, was he fighting too? 'The English truly are barbarians.' She thought. 'Forcing a young boy to fight for them.'

"'Allo Kiddies, what's all this then?" Arthur said suddenly, purposefully making himself known, much to Henry's devastation.

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**And there we go! XDD Sorry it's taken me so long to actually update this X'D I'm getting there I promise!**

**sorry about all the awkward language barriers in this but HEY! it WOULD be awkward wouldn't it? right? RIGHT!? XD**

**Even now this is only a filler chapter X'D This is to give more insight into Henry's character~ The adorable little dork XD**

**I hope you guys saw the parallel with Jeanne and Henry's thoughts X'D **

**anyway! I hope to have the next one up soon owo**

**I hope you enjoyed reading and as always, reviews are must appreciated! See you in the next chapter!**


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